


In Season (Savouring Every Bite)

by whiskyandwildflowers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Auror Partners, Come Eating, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Seasonal Produce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskyandwildflowers/pseuds/whiskyandwildflowers
Summary: For Draco, peach season can’t come to an end quickly enough.





	In Season (Savouring Every Bite)

**Author's Note:**

> This is shameless smut!  
> Thank you to keyflight790 for the speedy beta and help with the title!

By the end of August, there is a peach epidemic in the Auror Department. Stone fruit are in season, and now every report that Draco touches is covered in sticky splotches because of someone’s careless snacking.

Draco has never cared for peaches. They’re messy and sticky, and the juice is ruinous if it gets on your robes. Peach season can’t come to an end quickly enough.

Of course Potter is the worst offender—he’s been buying peaches by the carton at the farmer’s market around the corner. Every day, he sits at his desk across from Draco’s, slurping and sucking on each piece of fruit, practically molesting it until it’s down to the pit—then sucking the pit until there’s nothing left to do except toss it into the garbage.

It’s maddening and completely disgusting. Draco is in a constant state of nausea—his stomach rolling constantly in revulsion as he watches the juice drip down Potter’s chin.

Potter is a voracious eater—always eating as if someone is going to snatch his food right out of his hand at any moment. 

Day in and day out for weeks, Draco is confronted with Potter’s licking and sucking and biting. He’s a captive at his desk, forced to listen to Potter’s moans of pleasure every time he bites into an especially juicy peach. Potter must spend twenty minutes of every day just licking peach juice from his thick, tan fingers.

Potter is wildly distracting in his unprofessionalism.

“Do I have something on my face?” Potter asks one day after a particularly lengthy snacking session.

“Just your usual gormless expression,” Draco snaps as he tries to will away a rising flush on his cheeks. Potter frowns.

“Are you sure? I mean—you were giving me a weird look...” Potter trails off, scrubbing a hand over his mouth and then through his ridiculous hair. Surely there’s even peach juice in his hair now. Potter is such a fucking mess.

“Just fucking finish with that peach so we can get some work done.”

“Did you want one?” Potter asks, running his tongue over his lips and holding out his box of peaches to Draco.

“I think the fuck not, Potter.” Draco’s eyes are focused intensely on the papers in front of him, even though he’s reread the same sentence a dozen times at this point.

Their whole office smells of peaches.

* * *

The next day, Potter isn’t at his desk, but there’s a peach on Draco’s.

_Thought you might want a snack._

Potter can’t leave well enough alone. Not everyone wants to spend their mornings practically making love to a piece of fruit.

Draco holds the peach in his hand, feeling its weight in his palm and running his fingers over its curves and the slightly fuzzy skin. He inhales the sweet, summery scent and his stomach flips—his mind suddenly occupied with flashes of green eyes, tan skin, and a pink mouth covered in juices. Fucking Potter.

“Are you going to eat that or just hold it all day?” Potter asks from the doorway, an amused look on his annoyingly handsome face. Draco resists the urge to lob the peach right at him.

“As if I would eat something so messy,” Draco says, his voice not coming as steadily as he’d like.

“I’ll just take it back then, I guess.” Potter crosses their office and stops in front of Draco, suddenly far too close. Draco is frozen, arm outstretched with the peach held out towards Potter. He can see every one of Potter’s eyelashes and the small dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

Potter grips Draco’s wrist, pulling the peach towards his mouth and rubbing circles with his thumb across Draco’s pulse point. He sinks his even, white teeth into the flesh of the peach, closing his eyes and sucking some of the juice into his mouth before pulling away slowly. Juice drips steadily towards Draco’s elbow in sticky rivulets. He’s suddenly not that concerned with the state of his robes.

Potter swallows his bite and looks at Draco with a dark gaze. He drops his head and runs his tongue along the messy trail of juice, licking Draco clean.

“Sorry,” Potter says, voice low and raspy. “I know you don’t like mess.” He’s still holding on to Draco’s wrist. Draco’s breath is caught in his throat, and he’s hot and sweaty in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the stifling August weather.

“Potter—” Draco starts, which causes Potter to pull their bodies flush against each other in a crushing kiss, eventually pushing Draco up against his desk.

It’s hot and messy in a way that Draco has never kissed before. He feels the scrape of Potter’s stubble against his jaw—Potter’s mouth plump and sticky and sweet against Draco’s. Of course Potter would be sweet. He pulls back, huffing hot little breaths against Draco’s lips.

“I want you, Malfoy. Every day seeing you here is torture—you’re so pulled together. I want to make a mess of you.” All of the blood in Draco’s body rushes swiftly to his cock.

“You’re a total fucking mess, Potter. You’re an absolute disaster.” Potter moans and kisses Draco roughly once more, grinding their hips together furiously in a manner that is extremely inappropriate for any workplace.

Draco’s surrounded by the smell and taste of peaches and Potter. He’s rock hard in his trousers, kissing Potter desperately like he’s starving and Potter’s the only sustenance around. It’s humid and hot, and Draco feels needy and unhinged.

Potter drops to his knees and runs his cheek over the sizeable bulge in Draco’s trousers. His sticky fingers reach for Draco’s fly, freeing Draco’s cock. It would normally be slightly embarrassing that his prick is leaking after only a bit of filthy kissing, but Potter is staring at him with such a look of lust and adoration that Draco can’t bring himself to care.

Potter licks away the precome at the tip of Draco’s cock and takes the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue in a way that is completely maddening. His hands run up Draco’s thighs, reaching around to grip his arse. His fingers run along Draco’s crease, touching tentatively over the soft flesh in between. Draco lets out an obscene moan—a sound that he didn’t even know he was capable of making.

Potter pulls off and Draco hisses when the air hits the slick, overheated skin of his cock.

“Turn around,” Potter rasps, and Draco—for once—does as he’s told. Potter rucks up the back of Draco’s Auror robes and yanks his trousers to his ankles. Draco grips the edge of his desk and feels himself being parted by the same thick fingers that had been the subject of some very distracting daydreams for weeks. His cheeks start to burn, and he’s thankful his face is hidden from view.

Potter slowly presses scorching wet kisses on each of Draco’s arsecheeks, eventually moving in between to lick a broad stripe over Draco’s entrance. He then starts eating Draco in earnest, messily sucking and licking and scraping his teeth over Draco’s hole—practically savouring Draco as if he was a particularly juicy piece of fruit. Draco’s orgasm is dangerously close, and he pushes Potter back.

“Get inside of me, Potter,” Draco manages to grind out over his shoulder. He hears the clang of Potter’s belt buckle as he shucks his trousers and lets them hit the floor. Potter wandlessly conjures lube and his sticky fingers probe and push inside Draco’s dripping rim.

Draco feels the head of Potter’s cock nudging up against him. He hasn’t even _seen_ Potter’s prick and it’s going to actually be _inside_ of him soon. He tries—and fails—to suppress a shiver.

Potter pushes inside slowly, and Draco arches back into the sensation, feeling himself stretch around Potter’s length. As Potter bottoms out, he drapes himself over Draco’s back and starts to suck a bite into his neck.

Potter fucks into Draco deeply, groaning filthily into his ear. Draco’s cock is leaking steadily onto the desk and dripping onto a stack of documents he needs to file. He can’t complain about anyone’s sticky parchment ever again.

“Draco I—” Potter starts, and then Draco can feel him tense, emptying blazing streams of come directly into Draco. Draco is still hard enough to cut glass and breathing heavily. Potter pulls out, his release dripping out of Draco, over his balls and down his thigh.

Potter spins him around and takes Draco’s cock down his throat again in one smooth motion, running his fingertips through the come still dripping thickly out of him. It only takes a few seconds before Draco is crying out desperately, coming down Potter’s perfect throat.

Potter pulls Draco’s robes down from where they had been pushed up during their frantic fucking, leaving come-covered fingerprints on the side. He pulls those same fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. The filthy fucking sight of Potter sucking his own come from his fingers might actually be the death of Draco. They’ve just had sex in the middle of the day, in their office, still mostly clothed and without even locking the door.

Potter stands up, pulling up his trousers and examining various wet spots in his work robes.

“I guess we’re both a bit of a mess now,” Potter says shakily, his cheeks red and mouth swollen. Draco is still gripping the desk, not trusting his legs to hold him up.

Maybe peach season isn’t really so bad.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://whiskyandwildflowers.tumblr.com)


End file.
